Hijacked
by The Impossible Daughter
Summary: One second, and her cover was blown. One mistake, and they gained the advantage. One agent down, and they won't stop until they find her. (Fitzsimmons with a side of some other ships)
1. Simmons l

**A/N **

**So my hand slipped and I wrote this. Tbh Fitzsimmons has completely taken over my life and like at 3am a few days ago I thought to myself, "Season 2 would've so different if Simmons hadn't made it out of HYDRA." Which led to many hours of brainstorming and writing. I am writing and posting this as I go so I'll try and update every week or two. Enjoy and drop a review if you can, it makes my day :)**

**DISCLAIMER – I own nothing but the tears I have shed over Fitzsimmons**

Breathe.

That's what she kept telling herself. But she knew. She knew something was wrong when she walked into the room. Everyone stared at her. The air was off. Her first thought was that they found her out. Her cover was blown and at any second now men would come bursting in through the doors to take her away. No. Everything is just fine. She's over reacting. Coulson has it all under control. He'd tell her if something was wrong. He would. He'd tell her. Then it all happened at once. She saw her picture on the monitor. Guards came pouring in. Her brain yelled at her to move.

Run.

She did. She ran as fast as she could. Cutting corners here and there. Her chest ached from breathing so hard, but the adrenaline pumping through her kept the feeling numb. She realized the corridors were empty and let herself hope that she could make it out alive and unscathed. That's when the woman showed up with two heavily armed men at her side. Simmons knew that there were more coming from the lab and cursed in her head. She couldn't turn back and she definitely couldn't move forward. Running her fingers through her chestnut hair she panted, she calculated. It was all no use. She was helplessly outnumbered, outgunned, and out trained. It was over. She would never see the team again. She would never see Fitz.

Fitz.

Her best friend in the whole world. She couldn't imagine life without him. And yet here she was. She abandoned him in his time of need. _No._ She told herself. _It was for his good. I made him worse._ But right now that was the least of her worries. She was going to die and Fitz would go the rest of his life never knowing. She realized it after spending nine days at his side, watching his pale, unmoving body. Yet, the rush of emotions didn't hit her until she left. Waking up wasn't the same without their morning cup of tea. Working in the lab without his constant presence was positively horrid. She found herself wishing she could go back, wishing that she never left, but she couldn't be that selfish. After everything Fitz did for her, she couldn't stand in the way of his recovery like that. Out of nowhere, the woman whipped out two erythema sticks and started knocking out the guards accompanying her like she was swatting out flies.

"Come on!" She yelled.

Simmons didn't bother to question the dark brunette. She just followed her out and away. After all, she did just save her life.

"So not to sound ungrateful," Simmons breath was heavy, "but why are you helping me exactly?"

"Agent Bobbi Morse with S.H.I.E.L.D." She answered taking a right turn.

The scientist continued behind her, "You're with Coulson?"

"Yes."

"So what's the plan?"

"Don't know, but Coulson always has one." She sounded like she had more to say but stopped abruptly holding a hand up so that Simmons would do the same.

"Stay here and stay quiet." The field agent straightened her posture and walked forward.

Simmons did as she was told and stayed put. She heard some faint conversation coming from ahead. She figured that there was a guard posted and Agent Morse was trying to get him to move. Then the young woman heard something else. The sound came from the opposite direction. She turned around just in time to see Sunil Bashki and two armed guards coming towards her. She almost ran forward before remembering that Agent Morse had told her to keep her distance. But if she stayed in place any longer they were going to get to her and then it would all be over. So she took the chance and ran in the direction Agent Morse had gone. It seems that her assumption of a guard was correct. The field operative knocked out the man and turned towards the scientist.

"I told you-"

"No time." She cut her off just as the three men appeared at the edge of the corner.

The agent seemed to have understood the situation as she bolted towards and up the stairs along with her fellow S.H.I.E.L.D co-worker. They let their feet carry them as fast as they could and took two stairs at a time. When they finally burst throw the roof door, Simmons' face fell a considerable amount considering the situation.

"There's nothing here." The words left her lips with the hope that the universe would contradict her statement once it was spoken.

_No. This could not be happening. This cannot be happening. _

She repeated the sentences over and over in her head, but she knew that it wouldn't make them any truer than they already were. Simmons supposed that it was time. She had to accept that no one was perfect. Coulson couldn't have possibly anticipated that her cover would be comprised out of the blue like this. It was not his fault. She couldn't blame him. She should have been more careful. More discreet with her actions. She could faintly hear the sound of Agent Morse speaking to herself.

_Probably not to herself, most likely talking to someone on comm._ The scientist thought.

That's when the roof door slammed open and all hell broke loose.

The following seconds were the longest of her whole life. Everything and everyone seemed to move in slow motion. Agent Morse ran towards her, determination evident on her face while her eyes screamed with fear. She was yelling at her, trying to communicate something to her, but the biologist couldn't hear her over the shouts of the enemy and the wild gunfire. The field operative was quickly leading her towards the edge of the roof. The footsteps behind them however were faster. Just as they were about to jump off the ledge, Simmons felt something hot pierce her from the back. On instinct, Simmons let go of Agent Morse's hand as she winced in pain. She placed her palm on her shoulder, something wet and slightly sticky started to coat her fingers. The fellow S.H.I.E.L.D. agent was yelling at her to move, but it was too late. She got distracted by the pain and now it was too late. When she went to jump over the edge, they grabbed her. They grabbed her mid-air and yanked her out of the sky. As they threw her onto the ground, Morse yelled her name in the background and yet that was all she could do. They were shooting at her and the aircraft. If she didn't leave soon, backup would arrive and shoot them out of the sky.

Agent Bobbi Morse left. She flew away along with whoever was driving the plane as the scientist laid on the ground with a bullet through her shoulder.

Simmons knew the rules. She knew that they were outnumbered and out gunned at the moment. She knew that she was just one agent, _just one casualty_. She knew that as much as the team would probably try to find her, their efforts would end up useless. Because it was too late. She knew it when she looked into Bashki's eyes as he leaned over her. Even with dots dancing in her vision, she could clearly see the sinister smile plastered on his face. Moments of her life started flashing before her, mixing with her view of reality. As he crouched down next to her, she pictured her mother kneeling to help clean up her bloody knee after she had fallen of her bike. When he leaned in she imagined the Dean of the Academy wishing her good luck as she was handed her diploma. Feeling his breath on her neck reminded her of all the moments Fitz had hugged her in times of sorrow and spoke reassuring words into her ear. She could almost hear his voice telling her that it was okay, that she was going to be fine, that he would find a way like he always did. But she knew better than that. No one made it out of HYDRA alive, especially not a S.H.I.E.L.D. mole. Just as she thought they were going to kill her on site, Bashki whispered,

"Prepare to suffer at the hands of HYDRA."

The last thing she heard before the world went black.


	2. Fitz l

**A/N **

**Hello my darlings! Smanks for the reviews, they make me so happy :D So I actually ended up writing this chapter a lot faster than I thought I would. Don't get used to updates this quickly though cause I have some stuff coming up :/ **

**DISCLAIMER – If I did own AoS I probably would've done this instead of having Simmons safe (sorry not sorry) so I do NOT own anything except my idea **

The day started like any other. He woke up, had his cup of tea, and made his way to the lab. There wasn't much to do at the moment if he was being honest. The native Scot just sat in his chair going through some files that Coulson had given him. HYDRA did more than just steal equipment and data when they broke into The Fridge. They also set free over a hundred criminals. Along those criminals, were about a dozen gifted. With that in mind, the director wanted to make sure that the team would be able to contain said gifteds if they ever came across them. So Fitz took another swipe at his tablet to read up on the next case and see if he could come up with some idea for the containment unit he was supposed build.

Donnie Gill.

Under his name, next to status he read _deceased_. Fitz couldn't help but remember when he had first met him from that time he and Jemma had visited The Academy. It brought back memories of a simpler time. When he could do anything we wanted to with having to worry about his hands shaking at the wrong moment. When he could talk for hours explaining how a certain mechanism worked without stuttering or forgetting words. When he had Jemma Simmons at his side. The thought itself made him want to throw the tablet into the wall. She'd left him. In his time of need and weakness, she left him. Coulson had cleared up her whereabouts a few days prior when the team ran into Donnie. But he couldn't answer the one question that burned him deeper than anything, why.

He supposed he knew. She left because of him. Because he was no longer a suitable partner for her to work with, to be with. She left because he told her. He hated himself for letting it slip, but in all honesty, he thought he was going to die in that pod. He wanted, he needed her to know that she was his world. That if she didn't make it, he wouldn't either. Then he hated her.

Was the thought of him loving her so repulsive that she couldn't stand being around him? Did she think that even considering a romantic relationship with him was insane? Fitz knew that he shouldn't jump to conclusions, yet he couldn't stop. After everything they'd been through, she upped and left him to figure it all on his own. Even then, he still loved her. Even now, he hopes that she'll burst through the lab doors and jump into his arms. As unconventional as it was, he still loves her. So when he heard a faint yell that sounded like her name, he had to investigate. Setting down the tablet, he made his way out of the lab and towards the hanger.

Yelling seemed to get louder with every step he took. He was able to identify the source as Coulson and furrowed his brows in thought while wringing his fingers. Coulson didn't get angry easily. Even we he did, he was always on the passive aggressive side. Fitz could count the amount of times he had seen the director yell at someone one hand. He heard a variety of things as we got closer.

_"What do you mean they ripped her out of the sky?"_

_"Oh my god." _

_"You're sole purpose was to keep her safe!" _

_"Coulson you need calm-" _

_"Don't tell me to stay calm damn it!"_

_"We can figure out a way to get her back, this isn't over, right?"_

_"Sir I'm sorry I- " _

_"Sorry isn't going to bring her back!" _

By the time he arrived at the hanger everything was quiet. Coulson had his back to him and stood between Mei and Skye. The causers of his outburst seemed to be Tripp and a tall brunette that stood in front of the three agents. He quickly noted that he'd never seen her before. Her physic could easily be described as one from the Amazonian women in Greek Mythology. However, instead of standing with pride like the women in the myths, she hung her head apparently ashamed of something along with Tripp. The engineer watched from the entrance as the director clenched his knuckles white, shoulders shaking ever so slightly. Mei stood as stoic as ever, but he could hear sharp intakes of breath coming from Skye like she was trying to stop herself from crying.

Wait, no. She was crying.

This was bad. This was really really _bad_. Mei had practically perfected her training on Skye to the point that she barely shed a tear when it came down to taking out Donnie. And now she was sobbing. Whatever happened must've been extremely terrible to make breakdown like that. Then he remembered the reason he came in the first place. He'd heard Jemma's name. That's what had drawn him to the situation. He could feel him heartbeat quicken. Coulson losing his cool. Skye crying. Mei wasn't even moving, by the looks of it she wasn't breathing either. Then he heard Coulson speak. It was barely above a whisper, and he heard it.

"You were supposed to protect her. You were supposed to get her out."

"What's going on?" He stepped forward, revealing his presence.

Skye turned towards him taking another sharp intake of breath when she realized who it was. She brought her hand up to core her mouth shaking her head repeatedly. Tripp and the mystery woman looked at him with shock at finding out there was someone else in the room. He saw Tripp open and close his mouth like he had something to say but couldn't find the right words.

Mei looked over at him, "Fitz."

"I heard shouting. Did- did something uh you know happen or?" He kept wringing his hands, he always did when he was nervous, or scared.

"Fitz." Mei repeated.

Coulson wouldn't look at him.

"I just- I heard the- " he took a deep breath, "is Simmons okay?"

No answer.

"Is she alright?"

Silence.

"Sir?"

The director turned to him. His eyes red rimmed. His face tear stained. When he didn't answer, Fitz felt his blood boil ten times over.

"Where. Is. She?" He took a step towards Coulson with each word.

No response.

Fitz stormed in front of him. Knuckles white, teeth grit, jaw clenched, until they stood at arm's length from each other.

"Where's Jemma?"

The director just closed his eyes. So the engineer took another step until he stood a breath away from the man that wouldn't answer his god damn question.

"WHERE'S JEMMA?"

He was yelling at this point. He was probably crying too since he suddenly tasted something salty on his lips and his vision was slightly blurred. Just three words. Three little word could kill him or make his heart calm. But he needed to hear those three words. He needed to hear them from him. With a deep breath, the director looked him in the eye and said three little words that never should have been in the same sentence.

"HYDRA has her."


	3. Simmons ll

**DISCLAIMER – I own nothing because life is stupid. **

**( you should really listen to "Vengeance" by Zack Hemsey while you read this to make it really intense ) **

Everything was dark.

She couldn't see anything yet for some reason, she could feel her chest heaving. Almost as if she was running. Why was she running? She couldn't remember. She knew it was important, but her memories were a blur. Why were they a blur? She heard a name being called. Was it her name? What was her name again?

Jemma Simmons.

Yes. That's right. She was Jemma Simmons. Bio-chemist. The youngest person to graduate from The Academy alongside Fitz. Leopold Fitz. Suddenly her breathing was harder. Her heart was pumping faster. Why? She heard her name again. This time, in a distinctive Scottish accent. It was Fitz. He was calling for her. Was he the reason she was running? Was he chasing her? Was he secretly HYDRA? No. She instantly ruled out the third option. He couldn't be HYDRA. But maybe HYDRA was the reason she was running.

It made sense. She was a S.H.I.E.L.D agent. They'd want to capture her. But they didn't know she was S.H.I.E.L.D was still active. They didn't know _she_ was active. Right? Her chest was hurting quite a lot now. She should really stop. Yet, she couldn't, and she had no idea why. Everything was still so dark and she didn't know why. Why was she running? Why was this so important? Why couldn't she stop? The questions kept rolling around in her head. Gosh, her head. It was pounding. Was someone beating it in with sledgehammer? That is certainly what it felt like.

She heard her name again in that same voice with that same accent.

Why could she hear Fitz calling her? Was Skye right? Were they psychically linked? No. Of course not. That simply wasn't possible. It was most likely her subconscious trying to keep her from completely fading, trying to help her stay awake until she reached the surface. Was there really an end?

A splash of ice water woke her up.

Memories of infiltrating HYDRA and being caught mid-escape came flooding back. HYDRA had her. The conclusion was quite simple to make even if she didn't have her memories of the gunshots and adrenaline. She watched as Daniel Whitehall leaned back into his metal chair.

"It is good to have you back Dr. Simmons." he spoke smiling.

Her breath hitched as the rest of her senses kicked back in full throttle. She wasn't sitting like the old Nazi leader. She was standing, just barely, as her toes ghosted over the floor. Her wrists were chained above her head rather tightly. Her bullet wound had stopped bleeding, but the pain coming from her right shoulder was still hardly bearable. She tried to readjust her current position in hopes that the pain would lessen. It didn't. A small whine came from her lips and her shoulder and underarms burned white hot.

"I suggest minimal movement." He pushed up his glasses, smile still on his face.

"I suggest you let me go." Her voice was hoarse and scratchy, as if she hadn't spoken in days.

How long had she been out exactly?

"Now Dr. Simmons, we both know that is not an option." He was laughing now, talking to her as if they were old friends just catching up.

"It is an option." her voice came out strained, "Let me go now, and I'm sure I can cut a deal with the Director for you."

"Please my dear, the chance of deals left the table long ago."

He took off his glasses and began to clean them. She took the chance to think back to her brief Field Ops training. First, she had to take in the environment. The air was damp and heavy even though she felt a slight breeze. The room she was in was rather large, at least twice the size of the interrogation room on the Bus. There was no furniture from what she could she, besides the chair Whitehall sat in. The only source of light was a single light bulb screwed into the ceiling in between them. Only one camera on the far left side of room. One door under the camera. No windows. Alright, she knew everything and nothing all at the same time.

"If you are thinking of ways to escape, there are none."

She turned her gaze back towards him.

"This is the same facility we used to house the Winter Solider while he underwent training." His smile turned into a smirk, "I am confident you have heard of him, correct?"

Her eyes widened and he slipped his glasses back into place.

_This_ was where they had trained the infamous Winter Soldier? Did they really think she was such an escape risk that they had to keep her in such a high security compound?

"It is not so much high risk of escape as it is more high risk of being rescued."

Her mouth opened. Did she say that out loud?

"Yes, you did."

Bloody hell.

"You should work on keeping your brain to mouth filter under control Dr. Simmons. You wouldn't want to accidently leak any secrets, would you? "

The man stood up from the metal chair and walked towards her at a passive rate, his gaze everywhere around the room with the exception of her eyes. He tapped his chin with every step.

"What was that name you kept muttering in your unconscious state?"

No.

"Tritz?"

She would not play into his hand like this.

"Litz?"

She knew this was a game to him. He just wanted to make her squirm, his eyes met hers.

"Fitz."

It wasn't so much a question as it was a statement. She flinched at the mention of the name and hoped that Whitehall would pass it off as a side effect of her current situation. He didn't.

"Yes, of course, Fitz. You two were close?" he stood a breath away from her now, "Exactly how close were you hmm?"

"I don't believe that is any of your concern." She stared at him, eyes sharp and narrow, breathing through her teeth in effort to mask her pain.

"Very close then." He took a long step back and looked her over before settling on her eyes again, "Good."

He began to walk away leaving the chair behind in the middle of the room. A question clawed at her throat. She shouldn't ask. She truly should not ask. However, she was a feminine woman that leaned towards her feline side. As they say, curiosity killed the cat.

"Is that it?"

Whitehall stopped as her placed his hand on the door knob. He turned his head in a profile position, eyebrow raised.

"I beg your pardon."

With a sharp inhale she continued, "Is that it? No threats. No torture. You're just going to leave me here."

He laughed. Not an oh-that's-funny laugh. It was a full on omg-wtf-this-brit-so-basic-like-why laugh. When he finally calmed down after about thirty seconds and wiped a single tear from the corner of his left eye, the man looked at her.

"Believe me Dr. Simmons," he opened the door, "there will be plenty of torture for you."

We walked away smiling. However, instead of closing the door behind him, he left it slightly ajar. In walked a person pushing a cart, face hidden behind the bad lighting. She supposed this was the person in charge of extracting the information Whitehall wanted out of her. Jemma could clearly identify his as someone from the male species from his tallish frame and broad shoulders. Jemma stared at him from behind as her pulled on some gloves and came to conclusion that his arse wasn't half bad, it was quite nice actually. Along with what looked like an unruly, mop of curls at the top of his head. As she continued to study him from this angle, she realized that he looked just like Fitz from the back which she deemed a complete coincidence.

She should have known better. The universe is hardly ever so lazy. So when he turned around to face her, blue eyes and all, she could've sworn her stomach had flipped ten times over. Because it was logically impossible even though there was always that 1.38% that it was true. She had done the math when S.H.I.E.L.D fell and Ward betrayed them. There was always the possibility, but the chances had been so low she had over looked them completely. Just 1.38%. Yet here he was staring her down with the same lopsided smile from their Academy days. His Scottish accent shining through as he spoke,

"'Ello Jemma."

**A/N **

**BWAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAAHAHAHA! I am such a troll. I couldn't help it. I completely understand Riordan, Moffat, Davies, Roth, etc now. What a cliffy tho XD I really am a terrible person. Tell me what you think ;) **


	4. Fitz ll

**A/N **

**On Wednesdays we wear pink ;) jk I think I own one pink shirt and it's not even a pink shirt it's black with pink/fuchsia polka dots. Anyway, thank you so much for your reviews! They inspire me to go on. Sorry about the lateish update, this week was hectic with all the summer intensive auditions *rubs back of neck nervously* so yeah. Enjoy! **

**DISCLAIMER – If I did own AoS there would be a whole separate show just for Fitzsimmons, and since there isn't it's pretty obvious that I own nothing except my genius plot. **

3 days.

8 hours.

47 minutes.

12...

13...

14...

Fitz slammed his fist into the metal lab table. His rage clouding his nerves so much, he didn't realize his knuckles had crushed a few slides and were dripping blood until one of the assistants offered to bandage it. He glared at the young man. Jemma used to patch him up whenever he did something stupid like this. She knew just what to say to make him ignore the burn of alcohol on his skin. She knew just how to wrap the gauze so that it wouldn't get in the way of his tinkering and building. This stranger didn't know. He couldn't know. But the words wouldn't come out to explain the situation so he just stared at the young man even harder making the trainee lower his head and mumble an apology before leaving the lab. Now he was alone. It seemed everyone left him eventually.

"Hey Turbo."

Mack. Mack was good. He was here with him. Not alone. That was good. If he's alone... only the Lord knows what he would do if the stress got to him while he was alone.

"Anything new?" He asked his tone happy as always.

He wasn't very fazed when he found out that Simmons had been taken. Then again, he never had the chance to meet her before she...

Fitz hunched over the counter, elbows on the white marble, palms rubbing his eyes while he shook his head.

"What the hell man!"

Fitz looked up at his friend, eyebrows furrowed at his tone, mouth open to ask what had happened. It wasn't until he saw Mack reaching for the first aid kit that he remembered his hand was still bleeding.

"You've gotta stop doin this." The man spoke as he cleaned the engineer's wound, "I know you're frustrated but-"

"I'm not frustrated!" His jaw tightened.

He started shaking his head and tapping his foot not meeting Mack's gaze as he finished cleaning his cuts. He hated it when people just assumed things about him. Frustration wasn't the word for what he was feeling, it was something else. But he couldn't remember. The Scot ran his fingers through his hair, his foot tapping getting quicker as he searched his brain for the right letters to put together.

"I'm just- I can't- it's- " he groaned burying his face in his good hand.

Why were words so difficult when he needed them most? By this time, Mack had finished bandaging his injuries. He couldn't help but notice how it's form wasn't as effective and clean as Jemma's. Dear God, Jemma. He felt his stomach drop to ground and his head begin to spin. He paced while ruffling his hair. His fellow engineer just stood off watching him. He knew well enough to give Fitz space when he was trying to find the right word. But that was the problem. There was no right _word_ to describe how he was feeling. It was too much.

Rage.

Sadness.

Pain.

"Guilt." What was supposed to be a small whisper came out as a growl, he threw the test tubes and papers onto the floor with a loud crash.

"Hey!" His friend took him firmly by the elbow, forcing him to meet his gaze, "Calm down!"

"It's my fault! She- Simmons was cap- she was," he waved his left hand in the air, "taken by HYDRA and, and it's all my fault!" He yelled.

"Okay, you've totally lost it now. How does that even make sense?" Mack asked loosening his grip on Fitz's arm.

"If- if I hadn't, if I would've stayed just quiet and not- and not have said the thing, my feelings, she would still be here, safe."

Fitz absolutely detested crying. He did not like it one bit. There were very few things that could move him to tears, and Jemma Simmons topped everything on that small list. He blinked back the water that was threatening to fall, trying to keep up the strong facade he had been playing for the past few days.

"Are you serious?"

Fitz's eyed widened as he saw Tripp walk up behind Mack. He shook himself free from Mack's hold, "If I- "

"Stop." He put a hand on the other engineers shoulder, "You wanna play the 'what if' game? What if Ward would've shot her on site? Would that be your fault? What if you two had never been in that pod? Would she know how you feel about her? I can go on all day if you want me too." He sighed, his hard gaze softening.

"My grandfather used to say that the darkest nights bring the brightest mornings."

Mack nodded in agreement.

"The average kidnapping victim only lasts 48 to 72 hours." Fitz's stare narrowed at the men before him as he clenched and unclenched his fists.

Statistically, he knew. He knew better than anyone else that her chances of getting out alive were about 8.37%, getting out unharmed had about a 1.09% chance. Yet, that didn't stop him from hoping for the 1.09%. That small number was the only thing keeping him sane at the moment. Because the Lord knows that if HYDRA has so much as picked a hair from her head, he would hunt down every one of those bloody bastards and have their heads for hurting _his_ Jemma.

"She's a tough cookie."

Fitz looked back over his shoulder to see Mei leaning on the lab doors.

"She'll make it." The woman nodded before leaving up the stairs.

It occurred to him that this was the first time he'd seen Mei outside of the cockpit since Coulson had given them the news.

"We will find her." The look on Tripp's face was full on drive and determination.

"No doubt about it." Mack placed his hand on the young engineer's shoulder.

Fitz looked between both men, "We have to."

In that moment the Scot silently excused himself from his fellow agents. He made his way to kitchen in hopes that a cup of tea would help calm him. But all he could think about was what they would do to her every second of every minute of every hour of every day until he found her.

The walk to the kitchen was relatively short. It would've taken him no less than a minute or two to get there. So it was safe to say that he had taken a major detour. See, to get to the kitchen you had to pass by Vault D. Supposedly, the room was simply used for storage. But even with his brain damage Fitz wasn't stupid enough to but that lie. What kind of storage room needed three different locks? Seeing Skye slip out of there just made his curiosity levels rise.

Just as the door closed, the Scot slipped through. It was obvious that this was not a storage room. He placed his hand on the railing and made his was down the stairs only to find an empty chair, a tablet, and a white screen. His eyebrows furrowed. What could they possibly be hiding? With a few stokes on tablet the white vanished and he felt like he was drowning all over again.

"Fitz."

No. No this wasn't real. Coulson wouldn't do that to him, to the team. Skye just came out here. Did she know? Did she know about the monster that was under their feet and not tell him?

"Look I know that-"

"SHUT UP!"

If you would've told him a year ago that he would be screaming at Grant Ward telling him to keep quiet, he would've given you a very lengthy explanation about how he was very attached to all of his limbs and therefore yelling at one of the top Field Ops agents was not a possibility. Yet, that is exactly what he had just done.

His breathing became ragged and uneven. The Scot ran his fingers through his hair like a mad man, pacing back and forth, stealing glances at _him_.

"You- do you- did they tell you?"

The ex-agent just raised a brow.

"The um- the oxygen didn't uh-" his gaze fell on the tablet in his hands, "um maybe I should ah- I should just show you yeah?"

He typed in a few commands then looked up just in time to see Ward's eyes become the size of saucers. Now it was his breathing that was ragged and uneven as much as he tried to control it.

"Fitz-"

"My uh- brain went too long without oxygen. So I had to- I had to re- relearn, a lot." He watched as the person he looked up to like a big brother sat down on his bed, his face gaining a slightly pink color, "But um- my hands, they don't- they don't work like they- like before."

"Please Fitz-"

Ward thought begging would help him? Begging didn't help Simmons and him when he threw them off the Bus. The engineer locked his jaw, his hard gaze unwavering.

"But it wasn't enough yeah? You bloody bastards- you couldn't settle with me. You- you had to, you just had to take," He inhaled deeply in effort to slow down his heart rate, "_her_."

"_Je-_"

"Don't you dare." Fitz hovered his fingers over the tablet.

Ward put a hand up in surrender and pointed to himself with other, "Help." His word coming out more as a gasp than anything.

"You want me to help you?" His bottled up rage tittering over the edge of explosion.

The man in question shook his head in disagreement. He pointed to himself again, "Simmons. Help."

"You can help us find Simmons?" He lifted an eyebrow.

Ward's face completely red at this point and slightly purple. He nodded ferociously, but he could be bluffing. Then again, he could be telling the truth. He was HYDRA after all, maybe he knew where they took their prisoners. Fitz knew that if he wanted the information he had 27 seconds before the damage would be irreversible. He should let him suffocate. 20 seconds. He deserved the pain he was going through and so much more. 14 seconds. The chance of him lying were about 72.64%. 5 seconds.

He typed in a command and the oxygen in the chamber began to flow again. The ex-agent took several deep breaths never breaking his gaze from the engineers.

"If you lie to me," Fitz stood as close as he could to the barrier, "there isn't a force in the universe that'll stop me from killing you."

And he knows that Ward believes him. The way he's still out of breath, hunched over, eyes wide, nodding.

"Rio."

**Yeah….. I originally planned to end it with Fitz leaving the lab but I got inspired to be extra trolly. You're welcome.**


	5. Simmons lll

**(A/N **

**Does anyone still read this)**

685.

678.

671.

664.

She gasped for air as the steel board lurched forward and the towel was removed from her face.

Her breathing was fast and shallow and ragged. Her body was sore and worn out from the constant thrashing and twisting and twinging. Her clothes had been discarded long ago so that she could feel the freezing water running down her back and dripping from her chin. How she yearned for their warmth and comfort as her back arched and ached against the cold steel.

She remembered how they dragged her from the makeshift cot she now called a bed, how they gripped her arms so tight that bruises began to form within seconds. She remembered how they pushed her down and held against her will, strapping her onto the long board. She felt it as they tightened the restraints on her body before tilting the metal sheet back and making her wish she had died back at the pod. Because if she was dead, she wouldn't be here, she wouldn't know what it was like to have air so close but so far away. It was getting harder with every passing second. Yet, she had to remember. She needed to remember. If she forgot then what would be the point of surviving. There was no surviving if she forgot.

Wait.

What did she have to remember?

Her name.

Right, her name was…. it was something like…..….. Je-

They tilted the board back down and held the damp towel over her face again. As the hose blasted the freezing water, her nose and mouth were unable to take in any air. The scientist tried to remain calm, this was not the first or last time, but the lack of oxygen to her muscles made her lose control. Soon they started to spasm on their own accord as she continue to struggle for air. She would lose consciousness soon if she didn't focus. She had to focus. She had to keep her mind busy. She needed to work. She counted backwards.

657.

650.

643.

636.

629.

622.

615.

608.

601.

594.

As her lungs reached their peak of exhaustion, the towel was ripped off of her and the board was flung upright.

She coughed and coughed. Blood spilled from her mouth. She tried to even out her breathing before they took her back under. Her lungs burned. They burned harder than ever before. There was no way she would survive anymore of this. Yet, she had to. She had to survive. She had to get back.

What exactly did she have to get back to?

"27.93 minutes. It's safe to say I'm impressed."

She managed too crane her neck high enough to see that Whitehall had entered the room, that was one face she surely couldn't forget. How could she when she visited her weekly. Was it weekly? Or was it monthly? Daily? How long had she been taken?

"I know Marines that can only last 4.57." He continued.

He was analyzing her up and down like she was some sort of specimen. She supposed that was what she was to him. Just an uncharted territory that need to be examined and documented.

"Who am I?"

She noticed someone behind him. He was new.

Wait.

Was he?

He looked extremely familiar, but she couldn't quite place his face. Her stomach started to make her feel woozy as she continued to look at him. She knew him. She _knows_ him and at the same time she doesn't. Didn't he ask her this question before? Yes, he did. It came back to her in pieces, but she put them together, she always did.

"Fitz," it came out almost as a whisper, her voice ragged, "you… you're my friend, no. No, you're my best- my best friend, yeah? We-" The scientist began to feel light headed from speaking and stopped for a few breaths.

The man rolled his eyes while Whitehall sighed. The man she identified as Fitz asked another question.

"Who are you?"

Ah, this question. This one is a little harder.

"I said, who are you?"

She managed to find the answers though.

"Jes- no uh Jemma. I- I work for, I um- " who did she work for?

The older man raised his hand signaling her to stop.

"Fitz had brought to my attention that our," he smiled, "traditional methods haven't been working on you Jemma." He said her name as if it were silk.

The woman raised a brow. She managed to get her ragged breathing under control and down to a slight pant.

"Of course now that I've seen it myself, I can approve an order for you to receive more," he tilted his head, "isolated treatment."

What on God's green Earth was happening?

They unstrapped her body. Her limp form crippled to the ground with a thump. She felt two arms around her again, slightly lifting her off the floor. The men that carried her barely kept her feet off the ground. The woman could feel the skin peeling, more than usual anyway. By usual she refers to the times someone in a mask came into her cell and 'treated' to her physically. The scientist let her head hang, the drain of energy from her body forbidding her from doing anything else. They continued to drag her through the corridor until they reached the end an opened a giant steel door. With her gaze on the floor, she could tell that the room was empty, with the exception of the metal square in the ground. One of the men let her go and she nearly fell to her knees.

"What- what is this?" Her voice cracked.

The men were silent. They always were. As the man open the latch in the ground, the other man led her to it. Once they reached the edge she lifted her head up to him.

"I don't- "

Before she could finish the man pushed her into the 20 feet deep hole. The floor was covered in sand, but it was obviously concrete on the bottom. Her left side stung from the impact, she was sure her wrist was at least sprained.

"Please." She whispered up to the men, "Please!" She yelled trying to get on her knees, but unable to move.

They just looked at one another and nodded, closing the only opening in the hole.

There were no windows or electricity. Apparently there wasn't any insulation either as the cold began to get to her. So there she sat, nude, shivering, and in complete darkness with nothing but her own thoughts. She continued to do the math in her head.

587.

580.

573.

566.

559.

**And the award for greatest procrastinator goes to *drum roll* ME! Tbh I finished the chapter a while ago I just didn't have time to post it. I actually supposed to be doing Physical Science homework but, just refer to sentence one for the answer to that. Did any of you catch that Tokyo Ghoul refrence? Yes? No? Whatevs. Your reviews give me life! So do that, I will try to update faster this time. I promise. And now I have to go do homework. *sarcastic yay***


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